


a song that tastes like freedom

by wooju



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A Choice With No Regrets OVA, Canon Compliant, Gen, Minor Violence, Novelization, Protective Furlan Church, Protective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), The Underground (Shingeki no Kyojin), no prior knowledge of the show or ACWNR needed to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooju/pseuds/wooju
Summary: Isabel Magnolia had no idea where she was going, but there wasn't enough time to plan anything out. She just had to keep running.A novelization of the scene where Isabel meets Levi and Furlan in ACWNR Part One.
Relationships: Furlan Church & Levi, Furlan Church & Levi & Isabel Magnolia, Levi & Isabel Magnolia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	a song that tastes like freedom

She ducked into a smaller alleyway and sprinted past a row of dilapidated buildings, their windows boarded and bricks crumbling. She had no idea where she was going, but there wasn’t enough time to plan anything out. She just had to keep running.

“Hey, get back here!” a voice yelled. It sounded close.

She picked up speed, rounding a corner and hurtling up a set of stairs. Maybe she could just duck into an alcove and wait it out? She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was following, but the streets were empty. _Small mercies_ , she thought as she turned back—

—and just barely managed to bite back a cry as she slammed straight into a wall.

“Ow,” she muttered, slightly disoriented. She squinted at the wooden wall—no, the door. Someone’s house? She silently apologized for the loud thud that she must have made.

Leaning against the door, she took a moment to catch her breath. Her ribs were definitely bruised—maybe even cracked—and she was sore everywhere, both from the beating she had received earlier and her unfortunate collision with the door. She had managed to twist sideways at the last second so her shoulder would take the brunt of the impact, but still, she peered down at the precious cargo in her hands, worried she might have jostled it too much. She sighed in relief when she saw that it was okay.

But before she could get up, the door suddenly swung open.

She fell forward with a yelp, landing painfully on her knees and shoulders as her body instinctively curled inwards, hands cupped against her stomach to protect what she was holding. She groaned. What _was_ it with her and doors today?

“Oh, it’s just a kid,” someone said from beside her, sounding equal parts relieved and amused. “You gave us quite a fright there.”

“I’m not… a kid!” she retorted, still wheezing slightly. She looked up.

There were two other people in the room. Standing in front of her was a young man, dark-haired and remarkably slight in stature. If it weren’t for the look in his eyes and the way he carried himself— _tense, wound up tight, but with a weariness that only comes from having seen too much of the world_ —she would’ve thought he was a teenager based on his height alone.

“Is that so?” he said blandly, dark eyes scouring over her. “So that means I can kick you out and it won’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, right?”

His voice was low and rough—definitely not the person who had spoken earlier. It must have been the other man then, who looked about the same age but was about half a foot taller and had dark blond hair.

Both of them had simple clothes, but they were surprisingly clean and well-dressed for people living in this part of the city. In fact, the whole room was clean, unlike the grime and filth of most buildings.

The dark-haired man seemed to echo her sentiments. “I’ll even forgive you for getting the floors dirty,” he said, expression impassive. “Now, get out.”

She grimaced at the thought of trying to stand up, her ribs aching something fierce. A second or two passed as she tried to muster up the energy.

“What’s the matter? Can’t move?” the other man said finally, eyeing the bruises blooming across her skin.

“I can!” she snapped, indignant even through the pain. “Don’t underestimate me!”

Panting, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, keeping one hand cupped to her chest. She ignored the way her muscles were screaming at her to stop. In reality, she wanted nothing more than to lay down but with both of them watching her, she suddenly felt the need to prove herself.

“Over here!” someone shouted in the distance. She gasped, eyes widening, and tried to scramble to her feet, only to tip over and collapse heavily against the door. _This was bad._

“Tch. You were being chased, weren’t you?” the dark-haired man asked disdainfully.

“What should we do?” the blond said. The two of them looked at each other for a long moment as if engaging in some sort of silent conversation, then the dark-haired one gave an almost imperceptible nod. They moved in front of her, each leaning against one side of the door frame and looking out at the street. _Like two_ _sentinels_ , she thought, huffing a small laugh.

Voices floated in from outside as they got closer.

“That little brat…” someone grumbled. “I can’t believe she bit me.”

The dark-haired man glanced back at her at that, looking vaguely amused. Inexplicably, she felt a burst of pride in her chest and she lifted her chin a little higher, smug.

“Hey!” one of the men from outside called, noticing the two of them standing in the doorway. “A dirty little urchin came this way, right?”

“They’re ten a penny here, pal,” the blond laughed.

“Huh?” The man said, confused. In a thick, rolling accent, clearly from the capital city, he snapped, “You lot from around here or what?”

The blond snorted. “Says this guy,” he muttered under his breath.

She chanced a peek at the man making his way over to them. He was broad and heavyset, wearing a green vest over a button-down shirt. Gold rings glinted on both hands.

They made eye contact and she quickly ducked her head, heart pounding.

_Oh god, no._

“Oi! I found her,” Green Vest said triumphantly. He looked at the two young men standing in the doorway. “You friends with her?”

“Nope.”

“Hand her over then.”

Two more men joined Green Vest at the bottom of the stairs, one with a bowl cut and another with a beard. “Try protecting her and you’re in for a world of hurt,” Bowl Cut said, then paused for effect, smirking. “After all, she tried to go up the 11th Stairway without paying.”

Neither of the two standing in the doorway said anything, but she could see them straighten up in shock.

 _No, no, no…_ She buried her head in her arms, regretting everything.

“You know the one, right?” Bowl Cut continued menacingly. “The 11th is in Government Minister Lobov’s jurisdiction. We can’t let that slide, not even for a kid.”

“Of course, you two will be charged for harboring her too,” Green Vest added, leering.

She gasped, looking up sharply. She couldn’t let that happen, not when they were completely innocent. Scratch that—she could barely even believe this was happening in the first place. All this for the crime of trying to sneak up the Stairway without paying the toll.

The “crime”. It was a laughable concept. The government officials from the capital set the fees as they see fit, simply raising the toll anytime they wanted to rake in more cash. For the people of this city, it was near impossible to scrounge up enough money to go up the Stairway. Most people had enough trouble getting food on the table is it was.

The city was underground, located beneath the capital and made up of the remnants of a failed overflow population plan. Now that it was essentially abandoned, crime and poverty ran rampant. With the ever-rising costs of going to the surface, most people lived and died without ever getting to see sunlight.

It was a miserable existence, but it was all she had ever known. Now, terrorized by the threat of prison, she might not get even that.

“If you understand, then hand her over!” Bowl Cut shouted, getting impatient.

She waited, trembling, for the two young men to say something, to agree or to drag her outside, but neither of them moved. She couldn’t see their expressions from where she was sitting, but she hoped they had some sort of plan.

“Fine, then. Move aside!” Green Vest chuckled, rolling up his sleeves.

 _No. I can’t rely on them,_ she told herself. _The only person I trust to get me out of this mess is me._

She tensed her muscles, prepared to at least try to run away. She put on a brave face, even though it felt like her heart would burst right out of her chest, and watched him come up the stairs. She’d have to wait until he was close enough so she would have the best chance of getting past him.

Okay. Just a couple more steps now. _You can do this!_

Green Vest put his hand on the dark-haired man’s shoulder as he walked through the doorway—whether that was in a gesture of camaraderie or an attempt at dominance, she wasn’t sure. But now, she knew for a fact that it was a grave mistake.

The dark-haired man moved so fast, she didn’t even realize what had happened until Green Vest stumbled backwards, screaming. He was clutching his hand, rivulets of red gushing from between his fingers. The dark-haired man’s switchblade was blood-soaked.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she watched him toss the knife aside and punch Green Vest in the face a couple of times. She glanced at the blond man, but he looked almost… bored. As if this was an everyday occurrence, which was a slightly unsettling thought. But she had to admit, it _was_ pretty satisfying to see Green Vest get beaten up by someone a solid foot shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter.

The dark-haired man yanked Green Vest up by his collar and stared him in the face. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands,” he growled. “You’ll get my clothes dirty.”

And with that, he tossed Green Vest down the stairs like a sack of potatoes, where his companions caught him with twin expressions of horror. She stifled a laugh. _Rich people._

“Oh my,” the blond sing-songed, leaning against the doorframe. “I hope you know you can’t just stroll in here. We take hygiene _very_ seriously.” He gave a little wave, smiling cheekily. “Come back after you’ve washed your hands!”

Bowl Cut swore under his breath. “These guys mean business. Let’s get out of here,” he muttered to his friend, hauling Green Vest between the two of them.

 _Wow._ _That was… so cool!_ She stared at the dark-haired man in awe. He had literally sliced Green Vest’s hand open in the blink of an eye! _Amazing._ She watched him as he cleaned the blade of his knife with a cloth, brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and briefly wondered if he did that _every_ time he used it. Must be tedious.

“Hey, how long are you going to cling on to that for?” he said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “It’s going to die.”

“What? Oh—!” She pulled her hands away from where they had been cupped against her stomach this whole time, hiding her precious cargo. “Ah, I thought that’d warm it up.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Where did you get a _bird_?” The blond gaped at her.

“It was flying about. Probably came in via the sewers,” she said, then smiled softly, looking down at the tiny bird sitting in a makeshift nest made of old fabric scraps. “I wanted to set it free above ground.”

“You tried to go up the stairway for that?” he asked incredulously. The dark-haired man stayed silent, simply watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

Ha. If she didn’t know better, she might have described it as “soft”.

She shrugged, lightly petting the bird’s head. “This little guy probably prefers soaring the skies instead of wandering an underground city.” 

She didn’t mention that that was her dream too, for it seemed foolish and naïve. In a place like this, even if you did manage to somehow buy your way to the surface, you wouldn’t last long without proper citizenship. You’d just be sent back down. And that was the real curse of being born in the underground district—not the gang violence or the scarcity of food or even the short lifespans, but rather, the fact that you could never escape it.

But upon finding this bird, she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she could rescue it and set it free, it would mean that there was still hope for her. Hope that she, too, could be saved.

She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “I just wanted to help it."

The blond knelt down at her side. “That’s great and all, but it looks like he’s hurt his wing,” he said gently.

“What?!” she cried. “Oh no…” Her heart sank. She had no idea how to fix a broken wing, much less get supplies for it.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well," he began, slightly awkward. "If you want, I can help you bandage it up.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, do you want to come inside for a while…?” he trailed off and looked over his shoulder at his friend, as if asking for conformation.

The dark-haired man gave no outward indication on his face, but he closed the door and then settled down in one of the chairs, as if to accept the decision. She was fascinated by the way the two of them seemed to work with each other without saying a word, already familiar enough with the other’s behavior to understand what they meant.

“Then that’s that, I guess,” the blond smiled. He gingerly took the bird in his hands and sat down on the couch, patting the space beside him for her to sit as well. “How about we start with introductions, hm?”

“I’m Isabel,” she said, then offered up a small smile in return.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments make me happy <3


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